The Pleasure Principle. Kimberly Raye
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Excitement lit her eyes as she nodded. “As in an intimate party with the old gang.”
He returned his sister’s smile. “You never could keep a secret.”
“How could I when you practically stuffed haystack needles under my fingernails to get me to talk?”
He grinned and let the door rock shut. Nostalgia rushed through him, along with a sense of peace and he simply stood there in the doorway, absorbing the sight and sound and smell of the place.
“What’s wrong?” Ellie asked, her brow wrinkling as she studied him.
“Nothing,” he said, sliding his arm around her as he guided her inside. “Everything’s right. For the first time in a long time, everything’s right.”
“I’M AFRAID I’VE GOT bad news and good news,” Merle, still clad in overalls and T-shirt, told him after Ellie dropped him off at the service station to check on his car later that afternoon.
“Give me the bad news first.”
“I cain’t exactly do that. It really is bad news and good news all rolled into one. See, Janie Gingrich—she’s the lady that used to rent the room above the garage before she married Trent Mulberry—had this nasty crow that got loose and took up residence in the tree just in back of the shop.”
“Is this the good news or the bad news?”
“Both, I told you. Bad news because the critter’s been living in the tree behind the shop. Only comes out when he hears my wrecker pull up. Came squawking by when I pulled in with your sports car and pooped all over the hood. I shooed her away.” He waved his rolled-up issue of Popular Mechanics. “But it was too late. She scratched the paint before I knew what had happened.”
“And that’s good news, too?”
“Sure enough. I’ll have to wait until Monday to get the paint from Austin, but good because I’d have to have the car until then anyway so’s I can take a look at that cracked engine block and look for any permanent damage. I know, I know,” Merle said when Brady started to talk, “it’s not in keeping with my twenty-four-hour guarantee, but this being Saturday and all and Sunday not counting, it’s technically only twenty-four work hours.” He eyed his nephew. “You’re not mad about the poop, are you?”
“Not if you’ve still got that room above the garage.”
Merle grinned and fished in his pocket. “It’s yours,” he declared as he handed over a slightly bent key. “It ain’t much, just a one-room with a kitchen, but it’s clean. Maria sees to that.”
“That’s good enough for me.” Brady took the key and retrieved his bag from the backseat of his Porsche.
“Mighty pretty car,” Merle said as he trailed his hand along the door. “Minus the poop, of course.”
“Yeah, it is nice.” Nice was an understatement. It was the best, like everything else in his life. Sally never would have settled for less. Even when they’d been dead broke, she would spend the last dollar to buy one gourmet cookie that lasted all of a few bites, rather than a loaf of bread to last them all week.
The dollar days had passed and he’d gone on to bring home more money, which she’d promptly spent. Always buying the best, from clothes to cars to fifty-dollar decorative handsoaps that he hadn’t been allowed to use. They’d been for show like everything else in her life. Status had meant everything, and so she’d moved on when someone with more status had come along.
Thankfully, she’d finally done what he couldn’t because of his damned conscience. She’d ended their marriage. Cut him loose. Sent him on his way so she could climb higher on the social ladder.
Or was that why she’d left?
I need a real man who can satisfy me.
He pushed aside the words as he headed up the stairs to the one-room efficiency. He wasn’t dwelling on the past. He was living for the moment. For right now. And right now involved taking a shower so he could meet his younger sister and the rest of his old buddies for a much-needed drink.
“Look out, Cadillac. Here I come.”
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